


Now you know

by Blueberry_Cupcakes



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberry_Cupcakes/pseuds/Blueberry_Cupcakes
Summary: Enemies to lovers... er, sort of, but not really...
Relationships: Lucas Koh/Main Character (Love Island), Lucas Koh/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Now you know

**Author's Note:**

> Monthly prompt competition from r/LITGFanFiction on Reddit.

**present day  
** _march 29_

Dylan threw the shot back, slamming the glass on the counter and closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the burning sensation in her throat. 

She signalled the bartender for another, though he may as well leave the bottle here. She’d need it to get through the rest of the night with a semi-passable smile on her face.

Normally an event like her best friend's wedding would be exactly her vibe. On a good day, she was cheerful and bright and bubbly. But today, she was jaded. It had been just over six weeks since she'd been thrown aside by yet another man who'd deemed her unworthy. Had crushed her heart yet again. 

What was it about her that attracted men like this? Why would they not just leave her alone? Stop worming their way into her heart, crawling under her skin.

Her jaw clenched as she felt someone slide into the barstool next to hers. She didn’t bother looking; whoever it was can fuck off right now. She was not interested in any more assholes.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” they drawled.

All the muscles in her body tensed up and she had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Spoke too soon; it was _the_ asshole himself.

Pointedly not acknowledging him, she grabbed her shot off the bar, downed it and requested another. 

Lucas chuckled, a sound that sent sparks of irritation shooting through her, “Dy, I was hoping -”

Swinging her head round, she glared at him, “For the last fucking time, my name is Dylan.”

Hopping from her seat, she stormed off across the ballroom, heading away from the guests so she could just have a moment of goddamn peace. It would have been amazing, but the stupid dress Chelsea made her wear was so tight around her legs it hindered said storming away and made it more of a idiotic waddle. 

_Goddamn it._

She had just cleared the party area, stepping into the deserted lobby of the giant, fuck off mansion, when she became aware of footsteps behind her. 

Honestly, if that’s Lucas, she’s going to tear his fucking head off. She was not in the mood for his bullshit.

Spinning around, she couldn’t contain the groan of displeasure that left her.

 _Of course_ it was Lucas.

* * *

**twelve months earlier  
** _march 11 | some random bar_

Standing at the bar, Dylan had just finished ordering enough drinks to knock a horse out. Not her usual MO, but one she was happily embracing today. It’s not everyday your best friend gets engaged and asks you to be her maid-of-honor. That was her excuse and she was sticking to it.

Absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she'd just found out her boyfriend of five years had been sleeping around the entire time they were together. Not at all.

Her bubble of pretend happiness was suddenly popped when some random sidled up next to her, far too close for her liking. _Ugh._

“Hi gorgeous, what’s your name?”

Alright, look, she could _begrudgingly_ admit that when she first made eye contact with him, her breath caught in her throat for a second. She couldn’t deny he was _fucking_ handsome. Dark hair, dark features, tall, brooding, sexy as fuck.

But, she wasn’t getting sucked in here. She knew his type just from looking at him; cocky, confident and a fucking player. He probably had several black books, filled with names of girls he’d fucked. Hell, he probably had to write notes about each one because he hadn't bothered to get their names. A classic fuckboy. In the flesh.

_No thanks. Just spent all yesterday cleansing my life of dickheads._

Turning away, she ignored him completely, instead watching the bartender set up her drinks on a tray.

Seemingly undeterred, the man continued, “I’m Lucas.”

“No one asked,” she deadpanned.

Chuckling, he leant closer, his proximity making her heart stutter for just a moment. Don’t judge her; he was _hot_.

“The polite thing to do is to tell me _your_ name.”

“And the polite thing for _you_ to do is to back off before I shove your balls down your throat.”

An amused smile spread across his face, a hint of smugness written in his eyes. All she wanted to do was punch him in the face.

“What do you want?” she angrily demanded.

“I thought I’d made that fairly obvious,” he drawled casually, “You.”

_Gross._

Scoffing, she picked the tray up off the bar, “Does that ever work?”

Before waiting for an answer - because that was the perfect exit line, duh - she turned on her heel and walked back to where the happy couple were waiting. Or, less waiting, more making out.

Putting the tray on the table she jokingly whined, “Henrik, think you can keep your lips off my girl for five mintues?”

Still keeping Chelsea fused to his face, Henrik shook his head and waved his hand at her, silently telling her to piss off.

With a giggle, Chelsea pushed him away and turned to Dylan, her eyes widening as she excitedly squealed, “Oh good, you found her!”

Before Dylan could work out what the fuck she was talking about, she felt a hand on the small of her back and turned to see the man from the bar smiling down at her, “I did indeed, and what a first impression Dy makes.”

_Oh crap._

It all clicked. Of fucking course this was _the_ Lucas.

She mentally kicked herself for not making the connection earlier; it was so obvious to her now. After all, he was exactly as Henrik had described his bestman; a complete and utter douchebag. Alright, he didn’t use those _exact_ words. Or, really anything similar. Whatever, she was great at reading people; she wasn’t wrong about this wanker.

Pushing his hand off, she glowered, “My name is _Dylan_.”

“Now, how hard was that?” he asked smugly, taking one of the shots and throwing it back.

_Fucking prick._

* * *

**eleven months earlier  
** _april 20 | engagement party_

Dylan was standing in the empty kitchen of Chelsea's parents' _enormous_ home, helping herself to the leftover hors d'oeuvre and getting a much needed break. While it might be Chelsea's engagement party, her parents had invited all their snooty friends and Dylan had spent the last three hours bored out of her mind as she charmed the pants of everyone. Like the amazing maid-of-honor she was.

Sadly, her moment of blissful peace was rudely interrupted by Lucas strolling in through the door. Shards of irritation shot through her. Just the sight of him made her hair stand on end and her fight response kick in. He reminded her so much of her ex.

“Ugh, what?”

Still smiling, he walked over and stood right next to her, “Are you always this rude?”

“Yes.”

He laughed, popping one of _her_ rightfully claimed hors d'oeuvre in his mouth while he regarded her for a moment, seeming to take enjoyment in the death stare she was giving him.

He should be fucking withering damn it.

In a cocky tone, he mused, “I think it’s because you can’t stop thinking about me, and that pisses you off.”

“Oh for sure,” she agreed, her voice falsely cheerful, “Hey, just so I can round out my fantasy here, what would you hate more, drowning or burning alive?”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he said, “Tell me, why _exactly_ do you hate me?”

“Tell _me_ , why do you think I want to join the harem of women dropping to their knees for you?”

“That’s a big assumption, Dy,” he chastised her, still smiling.

God she wanted to wipe it right from his stupid face.

“Stop calling me that, and are you denying it?”

Stepping closer, he leant down, lips pressed lightly against her ear as he whispered, “Yes, because I’m often the one on my knees.”

She almost shivered, _almost_ gave him the satisfaction of knowing that she now had an image of Lucas, on the floor, in between her legs, seared into her brain. And _maybe_ she didn't hate the idea.

But she kept her cool. _Thank fuck._

Stepping back, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked towards the door, snipping, “Does _that_ ever work?”

“I don't know Dy, is it?” he called out after her.

_Asshole._

* * *

**ten months earlier  
** _may 5 | venue shopping_

Dylan gritted her teeth as she was once again interrupted by Lucas.

They had been venue hunting for hours and while Chelsea and Henrik were oohing and aahing over _everything_ , Dylan was left to discuss the finer details with the venue managers, making sure they could cater to Chelsea’s crazy ideas. No joke, at one point she was dead set on having a unicorn at her wedding.

But Lucas - like an absolute prick - continuously kept butting in; ‘helping’ her with the negotiations. As if she needed his help. He could go jump off a bridge as far as she was concerned. Every second he was in her orbit made her angrier and angrier until rage was flowing through her veins like lava.

After politely finishing up with the venue staff, Dylan grabbed Lucas’s arm, dragging him to the side, and hissed, “Can you fucking stop! I don’t need your fucking help!”

He shrugged like he didn’t care, “I know. I just like the face you make when you’re mad.”

Ugh! Could she punch him? Was that allowed?

“If you’re _that_ bored, why don’t you just fuck off?”

He laughed, surprising her with the carefreeness of it, “How could I _ever_ be bored when you’re around Dy?”

“Dylan,” she corrected frostily, “And I’m _not_ entertaining you today.”

Without warning he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her body close to his. His hand splayed out over her back, his skin touching the gap in between her jeans and cropped top and sending bolts of awareness shooting through her body that she desperately tried to push down.

He lowered his face to hers, his breath ghosting over her lips, making her heart flutter uncontrollably, “No? How about tomorrow? Go on a date with me.”

_Fuck. No. Not a chance in hell._

Pushing him away, she snapped, “Hard pass. You seem to have once more forgotten that my name is Dylan, _not_ Wednesday night.”

His face darkened into a scowl, “Jesus, you aren’t -”

No thanks. She wasn't sticking around to hear whatever bullshit line he fed her next.

Who did he think she was?

That was a serious question. She was _offended_. A date with Lucas Koh? Oh please. She definitely didn't have _'I'm easy'_ written on her forehead, right? There for sure was no sign around her neck that read _'fuck me over'?_ Where's a mirror when you need one?

* * *

**nine months earlier  
** _june 11 | brunch_

Dylan was officially getting a headache as she tried not to roll her eyes for the umpteenth time. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly drink _that_ , can you peel the cucumber?” the girl opposite her was instructing the waiter like she was the queen of fucking England.

Bleak, or Brake, or possibly Blane - _oh, who gives a crap, let's just call her Bimbo_ \- was just _another_ of Lucas’s vapid dates that he’d brought along to brunch with the happy couple. She’d met at least eight of these girls over the last few weeks, each as boring as the last.

When she’d asked Chelsea if Lucas _really_ had to be invited to every get-together now, she’d said yes. 

When she’d complained about him always bringing a date, Chelsea told Dylan that she shouldn’t have called Lucas a manwhore. Twice.

He was doing it on purpose, just to irritate her.

The fact that it was working made her literally seethe with anger.

Having tuned out of the conversation, Dylan jumped as Chelsea yelled out her name.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Dylan said sheepishly.

Chelsea giggled, “I asked what you were doing later?”

“Oh, I have a date.”

“With who?” she asked excitedly, probably just glad that Dylan was putting herself out there, like Chelsea had been trying to get her to do for the last few months.

Not interested in having this chat with Chelsea in front of everyone, Dylan simply said, “No one you know Chels.”

“Sounds fake,” Lucas said, raising an eyebrow at her.

_Oh fuck you._

Dylan tried her hardest not to react, not to let him get to her, but she couldn’t help it. He just… _ugh!_ She wanted to throw her eggs benedict in his stupid smug face.

Taking the high road - and by that, she meant not starting a food fight, but still being a bitch - she glared at him, “Oh really Lucas? Faker than _your_ date?”

The entire table went silent for a moment; Chelsea staring at her in shock, Henrik pressing his lips together so he didn’t laugh, and Lucas watching her, an amused smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Lucas will be with me later,” Bimbo responded in a confused tone, looking to Lucas for reassurance.

“Yes that’s right,” Lucas murmured to Bimbo, not breaking eye contact with Dylan as she coughed to cover her laugh.

See? Just like she’d coined the girl; bimbo.

With a shrug, Bimbo went back to pushing salad leaves around her plate and Dylan went back to pretending to ignore everyone, silently counting the minutes until she could get the fuck out of here.

Finally, after only a few more irritating interactions with Lucas, brunch was over and she hurried to get her things and leave.

As she was walking outside, Lucas caught up to her, putting a hand in the small of her back. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, the husky timber of his voice made her swallow hard, her breath catching in her throat.

God he was good at this. But she was no fool, she was not getting sucked into it. She was not going to be another notch on his bedpost. She refused.

“You didn’t have to make up a story just to make me jealous.”

“Oh, are you jealous?” she replied with a falsely innocent voice.

Watching the smug grin drop from his face was _sooooo_ fucking satisfying. She wanted to live in this moment forever; savour it.

But, she also wanted the last word, so instead she stepped out of his reach and walked away.

_Tosser._

* * *

**eight months earlier  
** _july 22 | impromptu visit_

Lucas had been texting her almost every day for the last month. Honestly, it was starting to feel like he was just making up excuses to talk to her. She hated every second of it. What did he not understand about her distaste to be one of his groupies? To be played like every other girl he snapped his fingers at?

It was now early evening and she’d thought she might have been spared his nonsense for the day, but, as her phone beeped, she realised that was just a dream.

_Lucas: Chels’ favourite flowers?_

_Dylan: He can figure it out._

_Lucas: Come on._

Shaking her head, she ignored him, not interested in helping him with the _one job_ Chelsea had assigned Henrik; the flowers.

Plus, it was her new favourite hobby; being rude to Lucas. It was what got her through the endless torture that was him bugging her all the time.

Clearly, Lucas hadn't taken the hint.

_Lucas: Plans tonight?_

_Dylan: Why?_

_Lucas: Flowers. Thought you were smart?_

_Dylan: Florists aren’t open at night. Thought_ **_you_ ** _were smart?_

_Lucas: I know someone. See you in 10. Wear something sexy._

_Dylan: Why don’t you take whatever girl is currently in your bed?_

_Lucas: 9 minutes, 37 seconds._

_Dylan: Stop._

_Lucas: 9 minutes, 08 seconds._

_Ugh!_

Throwing her phone back on her bed, she didn’t bother responding. She’d learnt in the last few months that Lucas was just going to do whatever the fuck he wanted anyway.

However, she was _not_ getting dressed in something sexy. It was just a coincidence that the first dress she saw just so happened to be a silky shift dress, that, objectively, was just a _little bit_ sexy. 

She wasn’t wearing it for him though.

Opening her door, she saw Lucas standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. Lilies. Her favourite. Probably something he’d contrived just to piss her off. It was working.

“You look stunning,” he breathed out, his eyes roaming over her body.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” she snipped, attempting to step out the door.

He put his arm out, blocking her from being able to leave, and offering her the flowers, “You have to put these in water first.”

_I’m going to kill him. That’s it, I’m going to be on TV for murdering Lucas Koh._

Snatching them out of his grasp, she stomped down her hallway, on the hunt for a stupid fucking vase. Once she’d sorted the flowers out, she turned around, pausing as she watched him walk around her open plan apartment. Something about the familiarity of it made her heart kick up a beat.

Picking up a book from the coffee table, he smirked at her, “Romeo and Juliet? I didn’t think _you’d_ be into romance.”

Dylan scoffed, walking over and holding out her hand for the book, “It’s a tragedy.”

Instead of giving her the book, he slid his hand into her hair, cupping the side of her face as he leant down to murmur, “No Dy, what’s a tragedy is you in that dress and me not able to see you out of it.”

Ignoring the streak of desire that shot through her, she pushed him away, “You’re a pig. Now can we go see these stupid flowers?”

He put the book back and shrugged casually, “Sure, but we’re getting dinner first.”

“Lucas! We are _not!”_ she yelled at his retreating back.

_Holy mother of god._

_That arrogant son of a - ugh!_

* * *

**seven months earlier  
** _august 5 | a party_

Dylan was standing on the balcony of Chelsea’s house, leaning back against the balustrade and watching everyone mingling inside. She mostly just wanted a moment to enjoy her whiskey in peace.

And _perhaps_ a break from having to babysit Noah.

She’d been casually dating the guy for the last few weeks and while she found him to be interesting, she knew others were bored by him; hence the babysitting. She didn’t give a fuck to be fair; he was hot, great in bed, and genuinely a nice guy. She needed a nice guy, he was healing her heart, so, whatever.

At this point, it shouldn't surprise her at all when Lucas appeared in the doorway and immediately joined her, his own whiskey in hand.

_Ugh. Why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?_

Look, she kind of hated him a little less these days; they’d spent _a lot_ of time together recently. He basically called her every other day about something or other, and they often ended up talking - or more accurately, arguing - for ages, or going out to eat, or running wedding errands.

 _But_ that didn’t mean she wasn’t still irritated by his constant presence in her life. Or by him in general.

Lucas cleared his throat and she _barely_ stopped herself from rolling her eyes as he said, “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“Oh _sorry_ , I forgot that I need to tell you everything.”

“Christ, not _everything_ , but…” he stared at her for a moment, an incredulous look forming on his face, “You can’t be _that_ oblivious?”

Before she could reply, or work out what he meant, Noah’s voice traveled over the hubbub inside, stealing their attention. Both her and Lucas watched as Noah animatedly tried to explain something and Chelsea tried not to look bored as fuck.

Lucas snorted, “Seriously, _that_ guy?”

“I like him.”

“He’s a bore and you know it.”

“At least _he_ has read Romeo and Juliet,” she pointed out, just to be a bitch. 

He smirked over the rim of his glass, “So have I.”

“Bullshit. You said it was a romance.”

Lucas shuffled on his feet and if she didn’t know any better, she’d have said he was uncomfortable, “I read it after that night.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, pinning her with a stare that made her heart kick up, “I wanted to be able to talk to you about something you enjoy.”

_Ugh. Dick. Probably uses that line on every girl he ever meets._

“Does _that_ ever work?” she snapped before walking back inside.

* * *

**six months earlier  
** _september 8 | her_ _apartment_

Dylan honestly had no idea how she had ended up here; on her couch, sitting _far_ too close to Lucas.

Well, that isn’t _exactly_ true. She knew _how_ they got here, she just wasn’t quite sure _why_ she’d let today get so out of hand.

It had started with them meeting for breakfast to discuss wedding outfits and had snowballed fairly quickly after he demanded they choose the whiskey for the wedding and ushered her into a tasting bar - at 10am - where they’d proceeded to get raucously drunk. So, to sober up, they’d taken a walk, grabbed a late lunch, played mini golf, stopped in at an art gallery, and ended up back at hers.

She hated to admit it, but she’d had a lot of fun. 

Actually, she _always_ had fun whenever he’d randomly decide they were going out. He still annoyed her to no end, but she’d noticed more and more that her face would hurt from smiling so much after being with him.

Now, as his thigh casually brushed against hers, she wondered if maybe she might _not_ hate Lucas as much as she thought she did.

But she knew those kinds of thoughts would get her into trouble. Lucas was the kind of guy that would hurt her if she got too close. If she didn’t keep a hate-filled distance between them, where would that leave her? Regretting her choice to fuck him, that’s where.

Which is exactly why, when he suggested they order dinner, she refused.

“I have a date with Noah.”

The easy smile that had taken up residence on Lucas’s face all day, suddenly vanished, replaced by something she couldn’t read, “You have a date?”

“Yes.” 

For the record, it was true. Also for the record, she was planning to cancel. 

Er, because she was tired after today. No other reason.

His jaw clenched, “Cancel.”

“No.”

“Dylan, you are cancelling your fucking date and I’m ordering us some food.”

“Lucas, you can’t -”

“No,” he cut her off, staring her down with a look that told her he was not messing around, “I am _not_ letting you go from my company straight to fucking some other dude. It’s not happening Dy.”

Irritation spun through her, making her hands shake from the force of it. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from yelling at him, doubling down despite knowing she was going to cancel anyway.

She did _not_ like being told what to do. He didn’t own her.

“It’s Dylan! And if I _want_ to fuck my boyfriend, I will!”

Lucas’s entire body went still, an emotion crossing his face so quickly she didn’t catch it.

“Boyfriend?”

_Oh, shit._

Noah _wasn’t_ her boyfriend; she hadn’t meant to say that. But now it was out there, she didn’t know how to take it back. Didn’t know how to tell him she just said it in anger. That he just frustrated her so much she couldn’t help saying things she didn’t really mean.

So instead, she just stayed silent.

“Is he your boyfriend Dylan?” he pressed, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

And still, she didn’t respond.

After a moment of silence, Lucas stood up, collected his jacket and walked out, slamming the door shut as he did.

The sound echoed in the room as loudly as it did in her chest and she didn’t understand why.

Why did she feel like she’d just fucked up?

* * *

**five months earlier  
** _october 2 | her birthday_

Dylan had left the girls at the bar, calling it a lot earlier than normal. She just wasn't feeling it tonight.

And it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about the lilies that had been on her doorstep this morning. _Or_ the note.

 _Happy birthday Dylan._ _  
__Yours, regardless,_ _  
__Lucas._

Ok, well, maybe.

She didn’t _want_ it to be in her head, but it was. Seriously. What the hell did ‘yours, regardless’ mean? She hadn't heard from him in a month. This note was driving her crazy.

_Fuck it._

Feeling emboldened by the shots she’d had earlier, she just decided to call him.

As soon as she’d hit the dial button, she started panicking. This was the worst idea she’d ever had. She was trying to get rid of him, not encourage contact. What the fuck is wrong with her? Shit, shit, what the hell was she d-

“Dylan?” his voice raspy voice cut across the line.

_Crap._

“Lucas,” she breathed out.

Suddenly, she was _very_ aware of how this was the first time she’d ever reached out to him. She also became very aware of how she wasn’t really sure _why_ she had called or what she wanted to say. Fuck. How did normal people have conversations with sort-of-not-really-friends slash people-they-still-hate-a-little?

How do you even goggle that? Not that she was currently staring at an open browser tab or anything.

Cutting through the silence, she heard shuffling on the other end, his voice quiet and sincere, “I’m really glad you called me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he paused for a moment, “But, why _are_ you calling me? At 11pm? On your birthday?”

_Damn it. I don’t fucking know!_

“Er… I just wanted to check you were still alive, I… haven’t heard from you and I figured only death would stop you from annoying me.”

Lucas chuckled quietly and the sound swept across her, causing a flutter of butterflies in her stomach, “Did you just admit you care if I'm alive?”

“No. That’s a big leap Lucas,” she scoffed, feeling a little uncomfortable at this shift in dynamic.

“Are you saying you missed me?”

“Another giant leap,” she scoffed even louder. 

The _audacity_ of this man.

Silence fell upon them. A very uncomfortable silence. For Dylan anyway; she had no clue what to say. 

Eventually he spoke, voice hesitant, “Shouldn’t you be with Noah?”

_Shit. Fuck. Crap on a stick._

Feeling awkward as fuck, she told him, “Um, well, he’s not, er, actually my boyfriend.”

Lucas said nothing for a few seconds and when he did, his tone was decidedly more upbeat, “Well, we have an hour left of your birthday. Do you want to get some ice cream?”

Yes. She loved ice cream. Oh god, hokey pokey with a caramel swirl? So good.

“Duh, I thought you were smart.”

He chuckled, “Clearly not, if I’m getting out of bed to hang out with _you.”_

“Suuurreee, I know you love me really.”

There was a pause; long enough for her to want to take it back, but short enough that she couldn’t embarrass herself by actually doing it.

“I’ll see you soon Dy.”

 _Right. Okay. I mean… That wasn’t_ **_too_ ** _awful right?_

* * *

**four months earlier  
** _november 19 | karaoke_

The lights blared heavily down on Dylan and Chelsea as they pranced around on stage, singing some Spice Girl song at the top of their lungs.

They were drunk. _Very_ drunk.

Having finished their tenth karaoke performance of the night, they stumbled back to the table, arms around each other, laughing at nothing.

Lucas and Henrik were waiting for them, both having been called by Chelsea about an hour ago, when they thought it would be an amazing idea to invite them to girls night.

Surprisingly, they turned up. 

Unsurprisingly, they were sober as fuck and spent most of their time being dicks about how drunk her and Chelsea were.

Suddenly Chelsea lurched forward, tripping over and falling to the ground before Dylan could catch her.

Not even attempting to get up, Chelsea giggled from the floor, and Dylan couldn't do anything except pout and whine helplessly, “Oh no Chels!”

Laughingly shaking his head, Henrik helped Chelsea to her feet and said, “I think it’s time to get you two home.”

“I’ll call a cab,” Dylan announced, pulling out her phone, but Lucas snatched it from her immediately, pocketing it when she tried to argue.

“I’ll take you home, you’re a mess,” he told her, an affectionate smile on his face.

If she wasn’t so intoxicated, she might have protested more. Hell, if she weren’t so intoxicated, she might have _remembered_ more.

As it were, she didn’t; instead suddenly finding herself standing on her doorstep, watching Lucas trying to work out which key on her keychain unlocked her front door.

Having finally figured it out, he turned, his smile almost blinding her and inexplicably caused her to start wondering what his lips would feel like on hers.

_Huh?_

Tilting her head, her drunk mouth decided to jump two steps ahead of her brain, “You should kiss me.”

Lucas froze on the spot and by the time he reacted she’d forgotten what she’d said and had zero context for his next words.

“I really like you. A lot, to be honest with you,” he said quietly, almost sadly, “But you won’t remember this in the morning.”

“I might,” she argued petulantly.

“Goodnight Dylan,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek, the contact almost burning her skin in a way that made her want more.

But, as it turns out, he was right. 

When she woke up the next morning, the memory was hazy and she couldn’t exactly remember why Lucas said he liked her, or if he even said that at all. It seemed far more likely that it was just a drunk hallucination.

She _did_ remember him kissing her on the cheek though.

She also remembered she kind of liked it.

_Fuck._

* * *

**three months earlier  
** _december 31 | new years party_

The party was in full swing and Dylan was happily chatting away with her brother Jake, when suddenly Lucas stepped up next to her. He had a pissed off scowl on his face and without saying a word, grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her through the crowd.

“Lucas, what are you doing?” she hissed at him as he led her down one of several hallways of Chelsea’s parents' house.

He didn’t say a word to her, just continued walking, every so often opening a door, finding it was occupied, and carrying on.

Eventually he found a bathroom at the back of the house and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut and immediately cornering her against the door.

An arm on either side of her head, body close enough to feel the heat pouring off him; she couldn’t stop her throat from constricting or her heart from racing as she tried to focus. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and she wanted to drown in their depths. Which was kind of a confusing thing to want right at this moment.

“Dylan,” he growled, “Did you bring a fucking date?”

 _What? Jake?_ **_That’s_ ** _what this was about?_

“I didn’t, but why do you even care so much?”

His jaw twitched in annoyance, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

“What game -”

Suddenly his lips were on hers, pressing, demanding. She should have stopped it. Should have pulled away. But the feeling of his lips sent sparks of electricity and desire coursing through her entire body and all she could think about was kissing him back. It was like something opened inside of her, something she’d kept at bay, something she’d been pretending wasn’t there.

But thankfully she didn’t have much time to ruminate on that; his kiss was fierce and unforgiving and left her with no room to think about anything except how good it felt. She clung to him almost desperately, as though he was everything she’d ever wanted. Maybe that was true.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she used it to pull him closer to her, and he responded by pressing his body against hers, his hands moving to her hips, fingers digging into her skin. A moan escaped her and he used it to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue across hers, making her toes curl. Oh, fuck. It was as though he’d set her aflame, and _dear god_ did she want to burn.

Breaking the kiss, he started a trail of hot open mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, making her gasp every time his tongue darted out. It made her think of all the other things he could do with his tongue, which wasn’t helping her be any less turned on right now.

Desperate to feel him, she ran her hands quickly down his chest, tearing at the buttons of his shirt, undoing enough of them so she could get her hands inside and touch his bare skin. Running her fingertips lightly over his abs, she memorised every indentation, revelling in the feeling of him; the twitches his body made in response to her and the sound of his grunts against her neck.

“Shit Lucas, who knew you had abs like these,” she murmured huskily.

Chuckling, he kissed his way back up her neck as he whispered, “Well _you_ would have, if you’d let me do this months ago.”

He scanned her face for a moment before his eyes locked on her lips and she watched him swallow. She desperately wanted to kiss him again.

“Fuck,” he choked out, meeting her eyes again and making her breath hitch with the burning want in them, “You’re all I can think about Dy.”

Reluctantly moving her hands from his abs, she tugged his hair, bringing his lips back to hers as she murmured, “Dylan.”

A small chuckle left him before he claimed her mouth, but this time it was different. Fiery flames of passion gave way to something more, something deeper, more intimate, more meaningful. The way he was kissing her, like he wanted to savour every moment of it, made her brain feel fuzzy and fingers tingle.

He poured emotions into it that she couldn’t even begin to understand. All she knew was that she was suddenly very much into it. Very much wanted him to continue kissing her like this forever. She whimpered as he reached a hand up to gently stroke her cheek, tilting her head to kiss her deeper.

_Oh fuck, I’m in so much trouble._

With a contented sigh, he pulled away slightly, murmuring, “Not quite how I wanted to do this but we’re here now.”

Not really sure what he was talking about, she hummed in her throat and kissed him again, letting herself fall into the sweetness of the moment. Allowing herself to drown in the strange feeling of happiness that had consumed her.

With a few soft pecks, Lucas ended the kiss, resting his forehead on hers as he said, “Come back to mine.”

“What? But -”

Pulling back, he gave her a look, “Really Dy? You want to go out there and socialise with strangers instead?”

A giggle escaped her, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

This was definitely going to be a mistake, but she didn’t particularly care.

* * *

**two months earlier  
** _january 23 | chelsea’s house_

Dylan and Chelsea were busy hot gluing wedding decorations together and drinking wine. Ok, mostly the wine thing. Either way, it was the perfect mind-numbing task to help Dylan get her mind off the one insanely sexy man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

Well, it _was_ the perfect distraction until Chelsea asked, “Are you seeing anyone?” 

Shrugging, Dylan answered honestly, “No, not really.”

She wouldn’t describe what she was doing with Lucas as ‘seeing him’. Not even fucking close.

Sure, she had seen him every single day since New Years, but it was for one purpose and one purpose only. Sex.

Sometimes it would be an entire weekend holed up in the bedroom together, sometimes just a quick shag in his car on her lunch break. Whatever form it came in; she was hooked on him. On the feel of him. On his taste. On… well, everything about him really.

Though they never left the house, they still had loads of fun. When they weren’t naked and screaming each other’s name, they were laughing and chatting, playing games, reading books, experimenting with new recipes. Hell, sometimes they just sat around his dining room table, laptops out, working.

It was fun, it was hot, it was casual as fuck.

Ok, well, not casual in the sense that _she_ was seeing anyone else. He definitely was though; she would place money on it. Honestly, she was _very_ impressed by his stamina; that he could see her as much as he did and still find time for escapades outside of it.

The thought _might_ make her feel just a little bit jealous, but she always pushed it down. Because if she pretended she felt nothing, she couldn't get hurt. She knew he only wanted sex from her. There were no illusions on her part.

“Really? No one at all?” Chelsea pressed.

“No.”

Chelsea pinned her with a hard stare, “Not even Lucas?”

Dylan almost choked, panic making it hard to breathe. _What? Shit, shit. Fuck._

There’s no way she could know right? Lucas wouldn’t have told her. They agreed to keep it on the downlow at Dylan’s request. Mostly because she didn’t want to have to deal with the questions when they inevitably ended things. Lucas wasn’t going to keep her around forever. They had an expiry date.

“Definitely not,” she said, surprised that her voice was so assertive.

“Well why not? He likes you, you know,” Chelsea pushed, “He's been waiting for you to be ready.” 

Dylan scoffed, “He does not like me, trust me on this.”

Chelsea always had these grand ideas about romance, but in this case, Dylan was absolutely, without a doubt, _sure_ that she was wrong.

Letting out a huff of annoyance, Chelsea went back to what she was doing.

_Thank god that's over._

As had become the norm, when Dylan got home later that night, she sent Lucas a text.

_Dylan: Free?_

_Lucas: Yup. Let’s go out for dinner. Plus there’s a cool art-in-the-park exhibit open down the road, could be fun?_

_Dylan: Know what would be fun? If I came to yours wearing nothing but a trench coat._

_Lucas: Sure Dy, whatever you want._

Even after almost a month, she was still surprised when he gave up on pushing her to do something with him without so much as a fight. She had gotten so used to him being annoyingly insistent, badgering her until she would eventually give in and he got his way. It was... weird.

 _But_ she supposed now they were sleeping together, going out to do things was more of a token gesture on his behalf. Probably something he did to keep the girls he was banging sweet on him.

She definitely didn’t need any romantic gestures from him. She didn't want anything from him that might make her start thinking maybe they could be more.

Because they would never be more.

* * *

**one month earlier  
** _february 14 | valentine’s day_

Dylan had been out of town on a work conference for the last week, which meant two things. One, she hadn’t been able to see Lucas in a week, and two, she was desperate to have him.

So desperate, she didn’t even care that it was Valentine’s Day. And she was _very_ grateful that he didn’t seem to care either.

When he opened his door, her breath caught in her throat, like it always did when she saw him. He was dressed in a nice shirt and pants, as though he was going somewhere. Perhaps he just got back from a valentine’s date? Eh, whatever. He looked hot and it had been a whole week.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tugged his face down to hers and he kissed her deeply, like he was just as desperate for her too. Like he needed her as much as she needed him. Familiar butterflies burst in her chest as she melted against him.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against her lips as he dragged her inside, closing the door behind them.

“Me too,” she whispered, trailing her hands down the front of his shirt, her fingers already working at the buttons.

With a chuckle, Lucas grabbed her hands to stop her, breaking their kiss and resting his forehead against hers.

“Dylan,” he breathed into the space between them, “Slow down, we have dinner reservations in twenty minutes.”

_Wait. What?_

“Why would we go out?”

He paused for a second, eyes boring into hers, almost like he was pleading with her, as he slowly answered, “Because I want to take you on a date.”

She was so fucking confused. What game was he playing? He’d never actually want to _date_ her. He didn’t even like her. Not how she liked - 

_Shit. No._

“Lucas, that’s not us,” she finally said, dropping her arms from his neck and stepping back from him.

He studied her for a moment, seemingly irritated by her response, “Why can’t it be?”

“Because we don’t _like_ each other.”

Lucas’s jaw set into a hard line and he turned away from her, walking over to the kitchen, pouring himself a whiskey and throwing it back. He slammed the glass hard down on the counter, the sound loud in the quiet apartment and it felt like it reverberated in her soul.

“Lucas, I don’t understand why - ”

He cut her off, not even bothering to turn around and face her as he snapped, “You should go.”

“I…” she faltered, not sure what to say, not sure what the hell had just happened.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She didn’t know if she was angry or upset or disappointed. Maybe all three. Whatever it was, it made her feel helpless. Because he’d just dismissed her as though she meant nothing. Like they were nothing.

Suddenly, she realised with disturbing certainty that Lucas was _exactly_ who she first thought he was. A fucking asshole who used woman and tossed them aside when he got bored.

She couldn’t believe she let herself get sucked in. She couldn’t believe she’d let him touch her. She couldn’t believe she let herself fall - 

_Nope._

Spinning on her heel, she walked out the door without a word.

She _refused_ to let him see her cry.

* * *

**present day  
** _march 29_

So. Here she was. At her best friend's wedding. In the lobby. Alone with the guy she hated more than anyone else. The guy she’d wished she’d never met.

_Fucking perfect._

“Dylan,” he said softly, taking a step towards her.

“No,” she told him forcefully, holding her hand up to stop him coming any closer.

Sighing deeply, he gave her a sad smile, “Dylan, I was angry that night because I thought you _knew_. I thought I’d been so fucking obvious there’s no way you didn’t and… I thought you were telling me you don’t feel the same,” he shook his head, as though clearing a memory and carried on, “But Chelsea told me that you _don’t_ know, and, so, I guess… I want to tell you.”

He shuffled on his feet awkwardly for a moment and when he finally spoke, it was so quiet, at first she didn’t hear it.

“I love you.”


End file.
